


True Strength

by aleviah



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender, Give The Game Away, The Waiting Game - Fandom
Genre: Fanwork based on another Fanwork!, Oyamas are precious, The Waiting Game by lettersfromnowhere, characters by lettersfromnowhere, characters from The Waiting Game series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:15:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27727985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aleviah/pseuds/aleviah
Summary: A short bit about Yangchen Oyama’s life because TWG series is underrated and I love this character with all my heart and soul
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	True Strength

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lettersfromnowhere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lettersfromnowhere/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Give the Game Away](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26282581) by [lettersfromnowhere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lettersfromnowhere/pseuds/lettersfromnowhere). 



> In case you haven’t yet, go read The Waiting Game series by lettersfromnowhere!! They’re amazing, I love the original characters (obviously) and oc’s should be more appreciated.
> 
> To everyone else who ends up reading this, hello Haang Nation and welcome BACK!
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Yangchen Oyama despised anything that made her feel weak. It was no wonder, then, that she often detested the presence of her family, as she truly loved them more than anything. 

Yangchen was the daughter of the Avatar, named after a past Avatar. The airbending legacy graced her existence, it was a cloud of misery. Of questions. Of doubt.

The middle child, an earthbender whose name carried legacies that far outweighed anything she could ever do. Try as she might, even if she tried for her whole life, Yangchen Oyama would never make a name for herself that overcame the name she was given.

_ “Why do you feel sorry for yourself, Yangchen?” _ Yuna had asked her once as they sat on the balcony ledge. They were never supposed to sit on the balcony ledge.  _ “Mom and dad LOVE you, and so do I. So does Gyatso, and all of our family and friends. You seem so sad all the time and I don’t understand.” _

Yangchen wished she had an answer. The truth was, she didn’t understand, either. And that only made her more sad.

Hina hadn’t questioned her daughter when she first asked to train with bladed weapons. There was no reason to stifle growth, and she was not one to discourage her children from learning as much as they could. It didn’t take long for Yangchen to choose daggers as her primary weapon. 

She didn’t stop her Earthbending training, of course. As if Toph would ever let her do such a thing, And she was quite good - a creative little girl, nimble in ways most Earthbenders were not. She was Hina Oyama’s daughter, after all. She didn’t need to have her feet planted firmly to be aware of her surroundings - she was always aware. She was always listening, always watching.

Hina was proud of Yangchen. She made an excellent combatant, and it brought Hina back to her days of training. But when Yangchen asked Hina to teach her, too, it was nerve-wracking in a way that was peculiar for Hina. She didn’t want to fight her children.

But she wasn’t - she was training Yangchen. So Hina did just that. 

Her daughter had grown. For a few months, they sparred, and Hina taught her everything. All the knowledge, all the skills she had learned over her lifetime, she passed on. Hand-to-hand combat. Fighting with daggers. Stealth. Instincts. Fighting against people who can bend. How to be a strategist. _. _

The part of Hina that would always be competitive grew tense when Yangchen began to equal her in skill. But the mother in Hina...well, the mother in her was proud. And when she told Yangchen just that, her eyes widened in an uncharacteristic way.

It was hard to surprise an Oyama.

Hina lay awake that night wondering why her daughter was so surprised that her mother was proud.

The next day had been their final sparring session. Unbeknownst to them, Aang had found them in the courtyard, and was standing under the overhang with a smile. His endless praises didn’t phase Yangchen, but she still smiled, beaming at her mother, and Hina smiled back.

Aang later told Hina that, from a distance, he hadn’t been able to tell who was who.

* * *

Hina kept her father’s knife by her bedside. It was in pristine condition, for Hina made sure to keep it that way. Did she dare part with it?

She couldn’t keep the blade forever, and Agni knew she didn’t use it. Hina fought with daggers, of course, but this was different. This blade had been hers since childhood, given to her during a time of helplessness. A time when Hina only had her wit, though still a child, and the last message of her parents. A time  _ before  _ she had become Hina Oyama.

This blade represented a time before all that. Fighting with it would stain its innocence to Hina.

But it was a blade. Her father had passed on this blade because they wanted her to fight. And she had, of course. But her father’s gift had never seen battle since his death.

Hina no longer needed a blade to remind her of innocence. She was surrounded by children, both her own and those of her friends, and it was a pure sort of innocence a dagger would never provide.

So Hina decided, on the day that Yangchen’s combat master released her from study, that she would pass this gift on. Yangchen was struck by the emotion in her mother’s face as she held out a simple dagger. 

_ “What is this?”  _ Yangchen had asked in surprise, hesitant to take the blade.  _ “Mom, you didn’t have to get me anything, really…training with you was the best part. You didn’t need to go out of your way to-” _

_ “Chennie,”  _ Hina had interrupted as she rested her hand on Yangchen’s shoulder.  _ “I didn’t buy this blade.” _ Yangchen adopted a confused look at this statement, but nodded for her mother to continue.  _ “This was among the last things my parents ever gave to me.”  _ Hina explained, willing herself to contain her tears. She hadn’t expected this to be so emotional.  _ “My mother passed her fans down to me, from when she was a Kyoshi Warrior. My father gave me this blade, and they left a note that led me to the Liberation League.” _

Yangchen nodded. Her children knew of her past, of course. Hina was not one to lie to those around her unless absolutely necessary.  _ “I’ve never used this blade.”  _ Hina had admitted to her daughter, looking down.  _ “It deserves to fulfill its purpose, and you’ve more than earned it.”  _

Hina placed the hilt of the dagger into Yangchen’s hand and wrapped her daughter’s fingers around it, squeezing slightly before letting go. The young Earthbender simply stared at the blade. 

Hina Oyama felt particular joy in watching her daughter train with that blade.

* * *

Yangchen spent the most time with Sakari, who was the only person who knew the story behind her new dagger. Yangchen would never show it, but she felt great pride at fighting with the blade. She felt confident when she gripped it, her head felt clear.

She was an  _ Oyama _ . 

Bending didn’t impress Yangchen in the way it impressed others. She was a talented Earthbender, of course, and she enjoyed watching her friends and family spar and train, but she simply found it... _ overrated _ . 

Her father bent all the elements, yet he was just as human as her mother, who bent none.

Her mother couldn’t bend, but she was just as capable as her father, if not in different ways.

Bending an element, in itself, did not make one strong.

Yangchen always strived to be better, and she knew from a young age that she wouldn’t be one to settle. She was determined to learn it all, learn how to bend and fight and use her Earthbending, but also learn to fight like a non-bender. Yangchen would carry on the legacy of BOTH of her parents, not just one.

Yangchen would learn and learn until she was NEVER weak.

So on her 18 th birthday, Yangchen felt more at home than she usually did. She hardly ever felt at home in her home. Yangchen fought so hard, fought with herself to feel like she was a part of this family - that she was truly a daughter of her legendary parents. She fought so hard that she became too tired to see the gestures of love from those around her.

But today, she didn’t miss it. Every gift was personal, thoughtful, and Yangchen felt a strange overwhelming sensation. It was so unfamiliar, but she didn’t think it was bad.

Saki presented her gift, and Yangchen unwrapped it eagerly. Her eyes grew wide. Her mother adopted the same expression once she realized what it was.

And that’s how Yangchen acquired her sheath. It wasn’t flashy, nor was it large. It was a simple tool that did its job well, and Yangchen was hardly ever without it. She wore the dagger like one would a family crest, with honor and pride.

* * *

Yangchen often felt as if she was underwhelming to strangers, as if she didn’t match their expectations as to what the child of Aang should be like. After years of jealousy and anger, praying that she would be more like her siblings, Yangchen finally stopped.

She stopped praying. She stopped wishing. Instead, Yangchen focused all her time, all her effort, on honoring the  _ Oyama  _ name. 

Being released from Earthbending was satisfying, but Yangchen didn’t truly feel accomplished, she didn’t feel  _ alive  _ until her blademaster let her go. Then she was given a dagger from her mother. She,  _ Yangchen, _ was given this Oyama heirloom. Not Yuna, the Master Airbender. Not Gyatso, the overly dedicated non-bender. No.  _ Yangchen  _ held the Oyama legacy in her hand, and once she had it, she always wore it at her side. 

* * *

Yangchen was scared of letting people get too close. She didn’t want to be weak, she didn’t want to care so much and then  _ fail _ them,  _ fail  _ her family and friends. She didn’t want to be the reason for someone’s pain. 

Still...everyone knew that her dagger, ever present on her waist, was how Yangchen kept her family close, for she  _ did  _ love them, and she was proud.

Yangchen may have tried to pretend otherwise, but everyone knew that she loved her family. She loved her friends. She may have been spiteful, distant, and overly blunt, but she loved them. And she would do ANYTHING for them.

She was, after all, an Oyama.

And as much as she loved her whole family, Yangchen would always look up to her mother the most.  _ “You were almost the death of me, little Chennie,” _ Hina used to say when Yangchen was young.  _ “Bringing you into the world was the hardest fight I’ve ever fought, but I’d do it all again for you.” _

Yangchen always found it hard to believe that she, Yangchen, a tiny-baby Yangchen, had almost bested the legendary Hina Oyama. Her mother was the strongest person she knew, and Yangchen wanted to be as strong as her.

Neither of them were good at feelings. They both were scared of getting too close.

But they regarded each other with such love. Such pride.

Anyone who knew Yangchen knew of her fierce loyalty. She was distant, yes, but she was steadfast. She may not tell you she loves you, and she may not hug you or shower you with praise, but Yangchen still loved with all her heart. Even when she wished she didn’t. 

Everyone knew that Yangchen would take pride in that dagger for the rest of her life. 

And they were right. She did.

When Hina once again became the owner of this dagger, she hated it as much as she loved it. Something that meant so much to her was simultaniously something she despised.

So, she kept it in her office. Perhaps someone would come along who Hina found worthy of the blade. Perhaps someone would find it. But Hina...Hina could not use that blade again.

* * *

Yangchen Oyama was a young woman who had convinced herself that her loved ones made her weak. But there was a time, a time that came too late, when she crawled her way into her mother’s office, when she realized she was wrong.

Yangchen was  _ strong _ because of those she loved. Her father taught her empathy, how to see alternate solutions to problems. Yuna, the older sister, had always made sure Yangchen knew that she was powerful in her own way. Gyatso taught her to stop, stop and breathe. Saki had taught her how to open up, how to relax, and Sana never viewed Yangchen as an Earthbender, but as a well rounded fighter. They taught her to find her own strengths, to be her own person, and they taught her forgiveness every time they extended that grace to her. And her mother…

_ “That’s my girl,” _

Hina had taught Yangchen that she was  _ not _ weak. Like her daughter, Hina was not one for affection. The simplest words past between them meant so much.

_ “Hang in there, Chennie,” _

Her mother’s words floated, as if underwater, and in that moment Yangchen finally realized that she had always been strong. Not because she was the most powerful, the best fighter, not because she was the smartest, but because she always strived to be better. She never stopped working. Yangchen pushed her limits constantly, she fought to be the best version of herself. Yangchen had many flaws, and she had many regrets, but in the end, Yangchen was NOT weak. 

She didn’t want to leave, but when she finally had to let go, she didn’t think she had been weak. And for the first time in her life, Yangchen didn’t feel the need to fight. There was no need to be strong.

She could be at peace.

Yangchen was strong of character. Determined, steadfast, dedicated, and restless. She was loyal and brave. She was brilliant. Passionate. Capable. She was fierce.

Yangchen had never been weak.

She was an Oyama, after all.


End file.
